


You're Such A Heavenly View

by sweetly_disposed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Author! Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Tattoos, bit of angst, but its a happy ending i promise, louis is with someone else, publisher! Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetly_disposed/pseuds/sweetly_disposed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a soulmate. Louis has had the name of his on his wrist since he was sixteen. But things aren't going well; it's been two years but he's not connecting with his mate. He's beginning to have doubts. People aren't supposed to be unhappy in soulbonds, are they? Is it even possible to bond with the wrong person?</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Such A Heavenly View

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this as a prompt somewhere, I can't remember where so if someone ever finds the original post let me know.
> 
> Title comes from Coldplay's 'A Sky Full of Stars'.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is my own original work, please do not post it anywhere else on the internet without my express permission.
> 
> Now translated into Russian by the lovely [Hey_Beth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_Beth), read it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3421775).

_"And then my soul saw you and it kind of went 'Oh there you are, I've been looking for you'." - Unknown._

 

_**********_

 

"Harry?"

Louis dumped his bag on the kitchen counter and paused, listening for any hint of life in the apartment. All was quiet, except for the soft tap of paws hurrying over to him, quiet purring as Matilda wound in and out of his legs.

Louis reached down and scooped her up, rubbing his nose across the soft black fur on top of her head. The purring increased, her little body vibrating happily as Louis scratched behind her ears and carried her further into the kitchen.

"And how are you?" he murmured, balancing the ball of fluff in one arm as he reached for a mug and flicked the kettle on. "Had a stressful day lying around in the sun, hmm? I bet."

Matilda tilted her head up, nudging her cold little nose to Louis’ chin in what Louis took as an affirmation.

"Thought so. Lazy little bugger." If Matilda was human, Louis was willing to bet she would be looking rather smug. The boiling of the kettle drowned out her purrs, though Louis could still feel them against his chest, and when the kettle clicked off Louis reluctantly put her down on the marble counter beside him.

"Don’t tell Harry you’re up there; you know he doesn’t like it," Louis told her sternly as he rooted around in the cupboard for teabags. "Isn’t he home yet?" Matilda flicked her tail at him. "Guess not," Louis said quietly, moving to the fridge for milk.

One-sided conversations like these between him and Matilda were not uncommon; Louis spoke to her like that all the time. Of course he never expected a response, but it was nice to have someone that at least pretended they were interested in what Louis had to say.

"Come on, you," Louis said, running a hand down her back and then gently nudging her off the countertop. She chirped indignantly, but followed him to the living room all the same. Louis picked up his bag and the fresh cup of tea on the way through and settled into an armchair, curling his legs underneath him. Matilda jumped up, making a huge fuss of plucking at his lap and stretching and purring before she finally curled up and promptly fell asleep, one paw on Louis’ forearm.

Louis moved around her, pulling a pile of papers from his bag he’d had to bring home from the office. They were busy at the moment; piles and piles of manuscripts were flooding into the publishing house at a faster rate than they could keep up with. Each script was the first few chapters of potential novels from hopeful authors. It was Louis’ job to read through each one and decide if it could sell. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to get through them all at the office, so for the past few weeks Louis had been bringing them home and making endless cups of tea to keep him awake every night. He would read until the lines blurred into one and the words didn’t make sense anymore, and then fall into bed beside Harry to get a few hours of blissful sleep before he had to get up and start again.

Louis opened a new script, pausing when the black tattoo on his wrist caught his eye. He stopped, hand hovering midair as he looked down at the mark on the inside of his wrist. The simple lettering, spelling 'HARRY' was so simple, could look like an innocent tribute to someone if it didn’t have so much meaning. He ran a finger over it, face softening as he remembered.

Everyone’s soulmate tattoo showed up on their sixteenth birthday. Louis had gone to bed one night fifteen, and woken up the next morning with a new future and the name of the person he was going to share it with. A world of new possibilities, of new people, new adventures, new love, had been opened to him overnight. He’d stared at the tattoo for hours, the name bouncing around his skull. _Harry, Harry, Harry_... He’d been so excited, so nervous, so in love already with a name that had no face to it. How young he’d been.

How naive.

A door slamming had Louis startling, sending Matilda onto the floor with a cry before she darted under his chair. Louis straightened his glasses and pulled his sleeve down over his wrist before studiously looking at the paper in front of him. He read the same line three times and then gave up, listening instead. In the kitchen Harry bumped around, slamming cupboards and rattling around in the fridge door, making the jars inside clink together. He was mumbling to himself, though Louis couldn’t make out any of the words he said. There was the hiss of a bottle being opened and the clatter of the bottle opener on the countertop.

"Louis," Harry called, "Has that fucking cat been on the counter again?"

As if she knew she was being talked about, Matilda hissed from under the chair. Louis rolled his eyes and stood, heading for the kitchen.

"No," he said casually, leaning on the door frame and watching Harry take off his tie and unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. "Good day?"

Harry only grunted and shrugged, taking a long pull from his beer bottle and stepping towards Louis. Louis went willingly when he was pulled in, resting his hands on Harry’s biceps as a kiss was pressed to his cheek. He turned his head for a proper kiss, tasting Harry’s cold lips and the bitter tang of beer on his tongue.

"Have you eaten?" Louis asked a moment later, closing his eyes against lips making their way down his neck.

"Yeah, had something at work. Sorry I’m a bit late." Harry replied, leaning closer, pressing Louis back against the door frame.

Louis nosed his way down Harry's neck, brushing his lips against the skin at the joint between his neck and shoulder. He inhaled, and then stopped. He tried again, breathing in the scent of cologne on Harry’s neck.

He didn’t recognise that smell.

His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly wishing that Harry would get off, get _out_. They’d done this before too many times, had the same conversation again and again...but Harry never listened, never learned. The fact that he had Louis’ name tattooed on his wrist seemed to mean nothing to him.

"Stop," Louis said, ducking down underneath his arm and escaping to the other side of the kitchen.

Harry turned to face him, blue eyes calculating. "What’s wrong?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Nothing." Louis said eventually, shoulders slumping. "Nothing. Just tired. Got a lot of work to do."

"You’re always tired." Harry muttered. "Don’t know why I bother."

He picked up his beer and strode through to the sofa, throwing himself down on it and rooting around for the remote. The blare of the television filled the apartment with noise, fake laughter and annoying theme tunes jarring Louis where he was still stuck to the kitchen floor just staring after Harry. The familiar heavy weariness was back, the tired ache in his bones that had little to do with his workload and everything to do with Harry.

He heard another low hiss as Matilda slunk past Harry into the kitchen, where she sat on her hind legs and pawed at Louis’ knee. Louis bent down and picked her up automatically, curling her into his chest. Her little heartbeat did nothing to comfort him, and he walked slowly to their bedroom and shut himself in. Matilda touched her nose to his and settled on his chest as he lay down.

When Harry came to bed later Louis feigned sleep. He heard Harry move around him, trying to get Matilda out of the bedroom. A muffled yelp told him he’d received a claw to the hand for his efforts, and Matilda stayed where she was. Only when Harry’s breathing evened out did Louis open his eyes again. He couldn’t bear to have Harry close to him, couldn’t have his hands on him when only hours ago Louis knew they’d been on another man. Again. That foreign scent was still in his nostrils, and he buried his nose in the duvet, breathing in detergent to try and dull it.

He lay awake for the rest of the night, and tried not to think.

 

**********

 

Louis took the next day off work, electing to stay in bed and try and read in the peace of the empty apartment, only moving for food and tea. He jotted down notes as he read, absently stroking his fingers through Matilda’s fur. Harry had left him in bed without so much as a ‘good morning’, crashing around as he showered and made breakfast. The comparable silence after he’d slammed the front door behind him had been almost deafening.

Louis liked the quiet. It was a complete contrast to the busy environment of the publishing house, with the endless ring of telephones and the whirring of coffee machines. As much as he was loud and hyperactive at work and around his closest friends, somedays he just wanted to curl up in a chair and be left in peace. He lost himself in manuscripts, with only the sound of Matilda’s snuffles and the rushing wind outside for company. The leaves on the tree outside his window were gradually turning yellow and orange, heralding the coming autumn.

Louis would be turning twenty five this December; his and Harry’s two year anniversary only a couple of weeks before his birthday. There would be no grand celebration, Louis knew; that was just not something they did. Harry wasn’t one for celebrating things, and Louis’ past efforts to mark their milestone anniversaries had not gone down well. After only two years together, it felt like they’d stopped trying.

The thing was, Louis knew it wasn’t right. He knew that he and Harry, what they had, wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Two years into the rest of their lives together, and Louis could see gaping holes in their relationship that other couples didn’t have. There was only so much he could ignore, only so much he could pretend all couples went through.

From sixteenth birthdays onward, it was common to have dreams of your soulmate. Visions, almost, designed to give the searcher something to go on; a hair colour, a height, anything for a hint as to what their soulmate looked like. Louis’ childhood friend Liam turned sixteen a few months after Louis, and used to tell him of dreams of a dark haired, tattooed boy, with chocolate brown eyes and a mischievous smile. When Liam spilt a pint over a boy with dark, almost black hair in a bar one night on his 20th birthday and found out his name was Zayn, matching the name on his wrist, Louis had watched them fall in love before his very eyes, their bond complete. Zayn’s friend, Niall, was no different. Dreams of a freckled redhead lead him find his Rosie when he was eighteen, right out of college.

Louis had never had dreams. For a while he thought it was okay, it was normal, that they would come to him eventually. He was just a slow burner. But years passed, and nothing happened. Seven years after he’d got his tattoo, at twenty three, Louis had been freaking out. He’d heard horror stories of peoples tattoos fading if their soulmate died before they'd found each other, or a black line that ran horizontally through the tattoo if the soulmate rejected the other half. It was possible to die of heartbreak, Louis knew. He’d seen it happen on the news. For years paranoia filled his days, waking each morning expecting to find the Black Line or no tattoo at all. The tattoo that had shown up at midnight on his 16th birthday had been fast shifting from a beacon of hope to a symbol of torture.

So when he found Harry in a bakery at twenty three, he had just assumed it was him. Blue eyes and blond hair, he was fit, and he was nice. Louis saw Harry’s mark, and it said 'LOUIS'. So that was that.

Except there were no fireworks, no neon signs, no thunderbolts crashing through him the way Liam had described it when he’d found Zayn. It had been more of a fizzle, actually. After a couple of dates, a blowjob and a quick fuck on Louis’ sofa, he’d convinced himself he was in love with Harry. He’d been able to breathe a sigh of relief; he’d found his soulmate. His mother was satisfied, his friends were pleased for him...he’d thought things would be _okay_.

Louis shook himself, trying to clear his head before he turned back to the paper in front of him. He could feel his focus slipping, and those stories wouldn’t read themselves in the deadlines he had. He read a couple of lines, willing the words to stick in his mind. When it became apparent that the words were going into his eyes and out the back of his head he gave up, clambering out of bed and heading to the kitchen for food. Of course Matilda followed him, so he put some leftover chicken down for her and then poked around in the fridge for something to nibble on.

This couldn’t be it, could it? This wasn’t the life Louis had pictured, the life that had mapped itself out for him inside his head on his sixteenth birthday. Harry....he loved Harry, though sometimes he questioned if he genuinely loved him, or if the love he felt was out of obligation for their bond. Then he’d always feel guilty for questioning his feelings, for doubting that this was the way it was supposed to go. He was lucky to have found his soulmate, some people didn’t even get that.

But did other people’s soulmates cheat on them?

Louis slammed the fridge shut, startling Matilda, something burning behind his eyes. He headed for the shower, turning it on as hot as it would go and standing under the scalding spray for as long as he could, determined to think of anything but his relationship problems. He went through the motions of washing his hair, massaging his temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension there and calm the thoughts bouncing around his skull. 

Walking out to his bedroom with only a towel around his waist, Louis wasted no time in grabbing his phone and scrolling through his contacts. He found Liam’s name, and after only a couple of rings his friend picked up.

"Hey, Lou," Liam said, and Louis smiled at the fondness in his voice.

"Hey, you busy?"

"Nope, got nothing on at the moment. Wanna do something?"

"Can you come over?" Louis asked, digging around in his chest of drawers for some fresh clothes. "Bring Zayn."

"I thought you had loads of work to do." Liam said suspiciously.

"M’not in the mood. Can you pick up some food and beer on your way over?"

Louis heard Liam talking away from the phone, and Zayn's voice answered back. "Sure, Zayn’s up for it. We’ll pick up Niall and be over in a bit."

Louis hung up and dressed quickly before tidying up the living room of Harry’s mess that he’d left there the night before. Beer bottles and take out leaflets were strewn across the coffee table, along with Harry’s socks and his favourite tie. Louis bundled everything up and threw it in the bin. See how he liked that, he thought grimly to himself.

When the doorbell finally rang Louis hopped over to it eagerly, flinging the door open and beaming out at his friends.

"Hey!" the three of them chorused, bundling inside in a noise of chatter and laughter. Affection for them coursed up in Louis’ chest, stress immediately lifting off his shoulders as Liam pulled him in for a hug and Niall ruffled his hair as he passed him to get to the kitchen, boxes of pizza balanced in his arms. Zayn winked, following Niall with a crate of beer.

"Hey, Lou." Liam murmured as he pulled back. His eyes searched Louis’ face, and his brow furrowed. "Are you doing okay? You look tired."

"I’m okay, Li." Louis replied, pulling his mouth into a smile. "Just got a lot of work on at the moment."

"We’re here to make you forget about work. Lads night in, yeah?" Niall appeared from the kitchen, half a slice of pizza already hanging out of his mouth. "There’s a game on tonight, or we can watch a film, whatever you like."

Matilda chose to make her entrance at that point, making a beeline for Zayn with her tail held proudly in the air.

"There’s my girl," Louis heard Zayn say, scooping her up and rubbing behind her ears. "Miss me?"

"Him and that cat," Louis shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "I swear half the reason he comes over here is to see her. You should get him one, Li."

"Nah, mate. That’s competition."

"It’s a cat, Liam."

They both looked to where Zayn was gently swaying from one foot to the other with Matilda in his arms, cooing to her as if she were a human baby. Liam glanced at Louis, one eyebrow raised.

"Okay, fair point," Louis conceded.

"Come on, boys," Niall said from the sofa, already cracking the tab on his first beer. "Dig in."

One by one they filled their plates and settled onto the sofa. Louis let Niall have free reign over the tv, glad to just have them around him. He felt more and more guilty at not seeing them as often as he should. Time spent with them was effortless, a stark contrast to the endless battle it felt like he was having with Harry. They all curled together on the chairs, full of pizza and beer and talking over each other and shouting at the tv. For the first time in what felt like forever Louis was content, pressed into Niall’s side and listening to his boys’ conversation happening over his head.

When the first film was over Liam stood, shifting Matilda from his own lap to Niall’s, and began to clear their plates and empty beer cans. Zayn automatically made to stand as well, but Louis beat him to it, taking his plate from him with a hand on his shoulder and a smile. He followed Liam to the kitchen, helping to load the dishwasher and put the empty takeout boxes on the side to be put out for the recycling.

"Louis," Liam said when they were almost done, turning to face him. "Are you sure you’re okay? You look...sad."

"M’fine," Louis busied himself with taking more cans from the fridge for the boys. But of course, it was in Liam’s nature to be concerned about people, and having been friends for so long he could read Louis like a book. It didn’t matter how much he tried to hide it, Liam always knew when something was wrong. Even when they were younger and Louis didn’t know how to put whatever he was feeling into words, Liam always knew just by looking at him.

"No, you’re not," Liam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. When Louis looked at his arm he saw his tattoo, the strong black lines that spelt out **ZAYN**. He swallowed, thinking of his own thin, fading lines. "Tell me."

Louis sighed heavily and leaned into Liam, resting his forehead on Liam’s shoulder. "God, Li. It’s just...Harry came home last night."

"Mmm?," Liam urged him to continue, rubbing hand up and down his spine like he used to do when they were kids.

"He didn’t...smell right."

Liam’s hand faltered just long enough for Louis to notice. "Oh, _Lou_ ," he said in a voice that made Louis feel like he could crumble where he stood. "Not again."

"Mhm," Louis nodded feebly. He kept his face pressed to Liam’s t-shirt, sure that if he met his eyes he’d start howling and wouldn’t be able to stop. "I don’t know what I’m doing wrong."

"It’s not you, mate. I’m so sorry, you deserve so much better."

"Maybe it _is_ me, though. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough to keep him interested. He’s going off me."

"No, no," Liam replied firmly but gently in his ear. "Soulmates don’t just ‘go off’ each other. You shouldn’t have to try, it should be effortless, you know that. And he definitely, _definitely_ , should not be fucking around on you."

"But, but maybe it’s not that uncommon. Maybe it happens a lot in relationships, but people just don’t talk about it-"

"Louis, Louis," Liam stopped him, still rubbing his back soothingly. "That’s not how things go."

"You can’t know that, behind closed doors-"

Liam stepped back suddenly and Louis nearly overbalanced, blinking up at him bewilderedly.

"Boys," Liam called. "Come here for a sec, would you?"

Moments later Niall and Zayn filed into the kitchen, Zayn with Matilda cradled in his arms. Niall looked between them, confusion clear on his face.

"What’s wrong?"

"Zayn," Liam said casually. "Would you ever cheat on me?"

Zayn almost choked, fumbling with his hold on Matilda and looking at Liam with wide eyes. "What?!"

"Niall, would you ever cheat on Rosie?"

" _What?_ " Niall parroted Zayn. "The hell kind of question is that?"

"Louis seems to think that cheating in soulbonds is common," Liam announced, and Louis shot him a dirty look.

"I didn’t say it was common," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "I just said it might happen more than people think."

"Lou..." Zayn said slowly, watching him with wide eyes. He’d moved closer to Liam, pressing himself securely to Liam’s side, almost like he’d done it subconsciously. "People in soulbonds don’t cheat."

"But....but-"

"Like hell would I cheat on Rosie." Niall said firmly. "The clue is in the name. Soulbond. You bond with your _soulmate_. Wait." he said suddenly, brow furrowing as he put two and two together. "Has that fucker done it to you _again_?"

"Niall-"

"That’s the fourth time," Zayn cut in, dark eyes flashing even as he kept his hold on the little ball of fur in his arms carefully light. "You can’t go on like this."

"But I don’t know what to _do_." To Louis’ horror his voice cracked as he spoke, and immediately the boys swarmed round him, throwing their arms across his shoulders and patting parts of him comfortingly. Zayn even put Matilda down in favour of offering support. "I just wish he wouldn’t _do_ shit like this."

At that moment the front door slammed, and all four boys froze in their group huddle as keys clattered onto the table beside the door.

"Louis?" A voice called.

"I’m gonna say something." Niall said, extracting himself from their bundle and pulling himself to his full height.

"No!" Louis hissed. Sudden, cold panic squeezed his chest and he clung to Niall’s arm. "Niall, you can’t!"

"Why?" Niall said loudly, squaring his shoulders. "The man’s a dick and he needs to know."

Louis cringed; there was no way Harry hadn’t heard that. "Niall, please."

"C’mon, mate," Liam murmured, gripping Niall’s shoulder. "This isn’t your battle to fight."

Harry rounded the corner into the kitchen. He looked taken aback at all the guys huddled around Louis, but he schooled his face into an expression of careful nonchalance all the same. Louis knew that look. It was the same look he got whenever he came into contact with Louis’ friends; like there was bad smell under his nose and he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Part of the reason Louis had begun to see his friends less often was because Harry disliked them so much. Slowly, finally, Louis was beginning to realize what he’d given up in finding his soulmate, even to the extent of sacrificing precious time with his closest friends. He’d do anything to make Harry happy, but look where that had gotten him.

"Oh, hey," Harry said casually, moving into the kitchen. "Didn’t know you’d be coming over today."

Out of the corner of his eye Louis watched Niall’s jaw clench, a muscle by his eye twitch. "Hey," he said coolly, and Louis let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. "We came over to keep Lou company."

Harry nodded, sharp blue eyes darting between the boys that surrounded Louis, standing over him protectively. Louis knew it must be an intimidating sight, and Harry was wise enough to not say anything more. He left the room with a curt nod, and moments later Louis heard the door of their bedroom snick shut.

"You guys better go." Louis said heavily, "Thanks for today."

"...Okay," Niall said finally. "Call me." He dropped a kiss to Louis’ hair and gave him a smile that was supposed to be supportive but came out as slightly sad.

"Bye, Lou." Zayn said, pulling him into a hug before following Niall to the front door.

"Try and sort this out," Liam looked him dead in the eye. "And never forget you always welcome at our place."

Louis swallowed past the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. "Thanks, Li."

Liam searched his face for a moment longer, and then nodded, satisfied. With a final stroke down Matilda’s back, he was gone.

 

**********

  
Louis let himself into the bedroom, finding Harry half out of his work clothes and standing in front of the mirror. He offered Louis a smile as he made himself comfortable on the bed, clasping his hands in his lap.

"How was work?"

"Eh, same as usual." Harry said shortly, his back to Louis as he pulled clothes from the wardrobe. "Sounds like you had fun today. Not all of us have the luxury of being able to pick and choose when we want to go into work."

"I wasn’t feeling up to it," Louis said defensively, prickling at the unsubtle dig. Continuously justifying his actions was exhausting, and he felt the first signs of anger touching the base of his skull. He took a breath. "Listen. I think we should talk about a few things."

"Why?"

"Because...." Louis floundered. "Because we hardly ever talk, and there’s a couple of things I want to ask you."

"I don’t feel like talking." Harry said dismissively, coming to sit next to Louis and leaning in close to brush his lips to Louis’ neck. Thankfully, Louis noted, he smelt like his own cologne today. "I can think of something better to do." He bit Louis’ collarbone a little too hard, and Louis winced.

He was only human, though, and just because he and Harry had problems it didn't mean he was any less attracted to him. When Harry began to palm his cock through his trousers, he let out a little groan.

"That’s it," Harry encouraged, kissing Louis on the mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

"We..." Louis panted though the haze that was beginning to cloud his mind, "We can talk after though, right?"

"Yeah, whatever," Harry pressured him down to lie on his back and Louis let him pull off his t-shirt, kissing down his chest.

He let Harry in, let him push into his body. He made all the right noises in all the right places, but his mind was strangely empty. Harry’s touch, his body above him, was becoming more and more alien to Louis. His hands were clammy on Louis’ skin, and even though they always did this and Louis still enjoyed it, he couldn’t focus on anything but Liam’s words from earlier. He drifted in and out of himself, just watching the ceiling and thinking, fingers wrapped in Harry's blond hair until he felt him come. He rolled off Louis immediately with a chaste kiss to his cheek and left the room. Louis heard the hum of the shower from down the hall minutes later.

He sighed, and wrapped a hand around his aching cock, closing his eyes and conjuring up some of his deepest fantasies to try and get himself off. His orgasm was half-hearted, and he did his best to clean himself up, not even bothering to try and join Harry in the shower. When Harry was dressed again, Louis was waiting for him on the sofa.

"Hey," He said softly, "Come sit, I thought we could order in, have a quiet night?"

"Can’t, sorry." Harry said, not meeting his eyes. "Meeting some friends down the pub, I’m already late." He pocketed his phone. "Maybe another night."

Louis watched, deflated, as Harry stepped around the apartment, gathering his keys and his coat. He wore a smart shirt and dressy trousers; far too smart for just going to the pub with friends. His hair was carefully styled, swept across his forehead. Louis loved that style on him. The watch Louis had bought him for their one year anniversary was wrapped around his wrist, concealing his tattoo from view.

Louis tore himself away, scrubbing a fist fiercely across his eyes to stop them burning and reached blindly for the tv remote. He flicked to any channel and glued his eyes to it to distract himself and studiously ignored the ache in his chest.

"Bye, love you," Harry said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Don’t wait up."

"I won’t." Louis tried his best to smile. "Have fun."

The door slammed shut, and Matilda was on his lap in seconds. She bumped his nose to his and mewled mournfully.

"I know, 'Tilda." Louis said, and ran his hand over her jet black fur. "I tried. What am I supposed to do?"

He let her curl up in his lap, and then reached for his forgotten pile of manuscripts on the coffee table. He opened the title page of the first, and began to read.

 

**********

  
Hours later, Louis was still on the sofa, utterly glued to the paper in his hands. He barely registered Harry coming home again at three in the morning and heading straight for the shower without so much as a hello. He flipped the next page, trying to get himself to slow down a little and take it in properly, but he couldn’t help himself. The story in his hand was weaved so brilliantly, so intricately Louis felt as if the author had plucked him right off his sofa and dropped him into this colourful world he’d created, as clichéd as that was. The characters were created beautifully, and Louis laughed and almost cried along with them as the author built them inside Louis’ head.

By six in the morning he’d finished the whole fucking thing. Matilda was griping at him for food, so he put some tuna down for her and jumped into the shower, standing under the spray and letting what he’d just read sink into him. He let the events of the story replay themselves in his mind, dove back into the author’s world. It was no good; Louis _needed_ to know what was going to happen next.

He dressed quickly, not even caring if he disturbed Harry with his slamming of the wardrobe doors or the noisy boiling of the kettle. He reread over his favourite parts as he ate some breakfast, excitement and nerves making it near impossible to keep anything down. By half past seven he was out of the door, and he was one of the first through the glass doors of the publishers when it opened at eight. He dumped his bag and coat by his desk and wasted no time in hurrying to his boss’ office. She was just on her way back from the coffee machine, and Louis skidded up to her, waving the manuscript in her face.

"I’ve got it," He wheezed to her guarded expression. "This...it’s amazing."

"Morning, Louis." Michelle said, stepping neatly past him and into her office. Louis followed her in and all but threw himself into the black leather chair in front of her desk, slapping the stack of paper down on the oak desk.

Michelle regarded him calmly over the top of her glasses. "I trust you’re feeling better after your day off yesterday?"

"Er," Louis said, "Yes, thank you. It must have been a twenty four hour thing."

"Hm," She studied him for a moment and then turned to her computer, tapping away on the keyboard with her manicured nails. "I’m glad. At least you managed to get some work done." She picked up the paper from in front of Louis and lifted her coffee to her red painted lips. "Now, what were you saying about this manuscript here?"

"It’s amazing," Louis gushed, sitting up straight and leaning forward eagerly. "Incredible. I couldn’t put it down."

"Hm," She said again, flipping through it quickly, skimming over the pages while Louis sat there, biting his lip between his teeth. "Interesting."

"Get everybody to read it," Louis urged. "Read it yourself, but it’s good. _Really_ good."

Michelle glanced at him, and then flipped to the front. "I think I’ll do that," she said, and Louis grinned. "And if all goes well..."

Her finger tapped a name at the bottom of the title page. Louis realized all too late that that was something he’d neglected to look at. How could he have missed the author’s _name_? "Then we’ll call Mr. Styles in for a meeting."

 

**********

  
Of course, the majority of the office loved it, as Louis had known they would. With every person that strode into Michelle’s office to rave about Louis’ find, Louis could see she was a step closer to calling the author and offering him the deal. Louis prayed for that to happen, and not only for the benefit of the author, but for his own selfish reasons; he badly needed to know how the story ended.

By the end of the next week, Louis was called into Michelle’s office.

"Right, Louis," she said, typing away on her computer. "We’re on. I’ve got hold of Mr. Styles’ contact details, and I’m going to try and arrange for a meeting with him next Friday. I want you there," she told him. "You discovered it; you get a chance to tell him what you thought."

"Of course," Louis nodded quickly, "I’ll be there."

"Good." She suddenly smiled at him, white teeth bared. "Looks like you just made someone’s day."

Louis drifted out of the office, lighter than air. A story that good was treasure, solid gold to a publisher, and Louis’ chest swelled with pride at the knowledge that he’d discovered it. He wandered home, huddling into his coat in the autumn air and kicking orange and yellow leaves up as he hummed merrily to himself. He made extra fuss over Matilda and then set about cooking something for when Harry got home. It had been a while since they had a night in together, and Louis was certain it would just take a little effort and they would be able to spend quality time together, go back to how things were when they first met. He had pasta bubbling nicely and was halfway through a sauce to go with it when Harry got home. He called from the kitchen and Harry came through, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist.

"Hi, love." Louis smiled, accepting the kiss Harry offered him.

"Something smells good." Harry said, pressing another kiss behind Louis’ ear. Louis turned, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Harry left him, shedding his shirt and tie on the way to the bedroom.

"We decided to take that author on," he called excitedly, quickly stirring the pasta before it had a chance to stick to the bottom of the saucepan. "You remember the one I told you about? Michelle decided he’s worth it, so we’re meeting him next week!" He did a little happy dance around the floor of the kitchen. Matilda watched from by her water bowl. Louis thought she looked slightly alarmed.

"Oh, yeah?" Harry’s distracted voice came from the bedroom. "That’s great, Lou..." he called.

Louis’ smile fell a little, and he turned back to the stove. When both pasta and sauce were bubbling he took them both off the heat, straining the pasta and dividing it into two bowls. He placed both on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen, taking out a bottle of wine from the fridge. Filling two glasses, he set them by the bowls and then waited for Harry to reappear.

Harry emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a different shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. The scent of fresh cologne followed him as he crossed to the bathroom. A knot formed in Louis’ stomach and clenched.

"You’re...you’re going out?"

"Huh?" Harry said, reappearing with his hair re-styled. He looked over the coffee table. "Oh...sorry, Lou." He didn’t sound sorry at all.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Louis demanded. He bolted to his feet, feeling his hands curl into fists at his sides.

"The pub. Work mates, again." Harry’s eyes narrowed, "Got a problem with that?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah, I do," Louis retorted. He pointed at the table behind him. "I made dinner."

"Oh," Harry waved a hand dismissively, "You go ahead, stick mine in the fridge, would you?"

"Excuse me?" Louis’ jaw dropped. "You’re just going to go out?"

Harry’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out. Whatever he saw on his phone had a smile creeping across his face. Louis saw red.

"Fuck you, Harry," he spat, voice trembling in his throat.

Harry looked at him like he was unhinged, already sliding his arms through his coat sleeves. "The fuck’s wrong with you?" He scoffed. "Grow up, Louis."

He slammed the door after him so hard Louis felt the apartment shake. He stood there, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, before he felt he was in control of himself to move. He picked up their untouched bowls and dumped them unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. Then he stalked back to the living room with the rest of the bottle of wine and filled both the wine glasses to the brim. He sat back against the cushions and drank the first glass before he allowed himself to think, concentrating only on the slide of the cold liquid down his throat.

He drank the second, and then before he knew it the whole bottle had gone. It was only when he tried to move that he realised everything was a little swimmy; his mind had gone fuzzy around the edges. He let himself slip sideways so he was lying down on the sofa, one arm dangling over onto the floor while his legs were propped on the opposite armrest. He felt Matilda snuffle at his fingers, felt the pressure of her little body pad across his stomach.

"It's jus' you an' me, innit babe," he slurred sadly, "S'always jus' you an me..."

He let himself drift, soothed by the mass of purring fur on his stomach.

  
**********

  
The next morning, Louis woke to find the apartment empty. He checked all the rooms, but it soon became clear to him that Harry hadn’t come home at all.

The terrible thing was, Louis didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved. Deep down, he wasn’t sure he could look at Harry’s face anytime soon without wanting to throw something hard and heavy at him. Instead he opted for cleaning up the now congealed dinner from the night before, and then he called Liam.

An hour later all four of them were in a cafe a short walk from Louis’ apartment. Niall was happily digging into waffles coated with an unhealthy amount of syrup, while Zayn and Liam shared pancakes and Louis just stuck to a coffee.

"So, you haven’t seen him since last night?" Zayn clarified, forkful of pancake poised in front of his mouth.

Louis shook his head, cradling his mug in his hands and letting the warmth seep into his skin. "Don’t particularly want to, either."

"Lou," Liam chided gently, eyes kind. "You don’t mean that, just wait for him to come home, then you can talk things through."

"I try to talk to him, Liam." Louis sighed, dragging a hand through his hair wearily. "He just goes out."

He felt heavy to his bones, aching and tired. He hadn’t bothered to shower before meeting the boys, so he knew he must look like hell anyway, greasy hair that he’d tucked under a beanie and bloodshot eyes with dark smudges underneath them. In his heart, he could feel that he was almost done. He doubted his ability to deal with Harry anymore. Everyday was like an uphill struggle that he was almost barely managing. His control on his own goddamn life was slipping away from him.

"What happens if you break a soulbond?" he said quietly into his coffee.

Niall’s fork clattered to his plate and Liam choked on his mouthful of pancake. Louis felt himself blush to the tips of his ears as Zayn thumped Liam on the back.

"You can’t break a true soulbond, Lou," Niall said in a hushed voice, looking around as he spoke as if such a topic was illegal. "Bad things happen- have you not heard the stories?"

"I know," Louis muttered back. He spread his hands over the table, palms up. "But this can’t be it. If _he_ is my lifebond, if he’s _the one_...I don’t want it anymore." His voice hardened as he went on, "I’d rather be alone."

"You can’t mean that, mate..." Zayn said, shaking his head. "No one wants to be alone."

"I...I think I'd prefer it," Louis nodded. "I’m not sure I can do this much longer, boys."

The finality in his voice was palpable. Liam reached across the table to grip his hand, brown eyes looking a little watery.

"Lou," he said, "I’m so sorry, we should have done more..."

"It’s not your fault, Li," Louis forced a smile. "Looks like I wasn’t meant to have a soulmate." His nonchalant shrug was slightly lessened in effect by his trembling hands.

"But...your tattoo," Niall pointed out, and Louis pulled back his sleeve and lay his wrist on the table.

"Put yours down." He said, and the other three obeyed, laying their own arms down. All three of the names on their wrists were bold, black marks, strong lines and block colour. Louis’ mark was made up of tiny, spindly letters, thin lines fading in some places. The tail of the ‘Y’ was almost non-existent.

"See? Me and Harry...it’s not enough."

Liam took his hand again, holding it firm like he was trying to stop it shaking, determination flashing in his eyes. "Don’t worry, Louis. If you decided to break the bond you won’t do it by yourself. We’ll help you through it."

Louis smiled gratefully and he only nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  
**********

  
He and Harry avoided each other for the most part. Harry had already gone to work by the time Louis got up, and arrived home later than Louis did. He continued going out every night with barely a farewell grunt in Louis’ direction, but Louis contented himself with his little bed on the sofa and knew that in one way or another he would make things better for himself. He began to plan in his head; where he would go, what he would do if he left Harry. He was pretty sure Liam and Zayn would put him up for as long as it took him to find a place of his own. Matilda would have to come with him, but Zayn adored her so they wouldn’t mind having her around for a while. He had money; a savings account that his parents had set up for him when he was little remained untouched. He’d have to take a couple of days off work to sort himself out, but with his recent discovery of a potential bestseller, he didn’t think Michelle would mind that much.

Caught up with his planning and worrying, he’d totally forgotten about the meeting with Mr. Styles. He only remembered on Friday morning when he strolled into the office, stifling a yawn, to find the boardroom that was used exclusively for meetings being set up. It was a large room with glass walls, and inside it was mostly taken up by a large rectangular mahogany table, polished until it was gleaming, with black leather chairs placed evenly around the outside of it. The whole thing was designed to be intimidating, in full view of the office floor. Grabbing a polystyrene cup of coffee, Louis settled behind his computer and watched them set it up, placing cups out ready for tea and coffee, and name cards in front of each seat.

The morning dragged. Louis tried to get on with some work, but he found himself peering over his computer screen at the empty boardroom, anticipation increasing by the hour. He stretched subtly, feeling the ache in his joints from having to sleep cramped up on the sofa. He was lethargic as it was, and the fact that it was a slow day in the office and nothing much was happening didn’t help his fatigue. By midday the boredom was killing him, and he abandoned his desk early in favour of stepping outside to the busy high street. He wasted his lunch hour wandering around aimlessly, too keyed up to eat anything, before returning to the office to get out of the chilly weather.

At ten to one he was sat behind his name card in the boardroom, tapping one foot impatiently under the table. One by one more people joined him, someone he recognised from finances, another woman from Louis’ office, and a man and a woman that looked like they were probably Michelle’s bosses. They all shuffled papers in front of themselves and Louis bit his lip at his own lack of documents. He’d only brought with him his original copy of the manuscript- was he supposed to have something else?

Michelle strode in, heels clicking on the polished wooden floors. She took her place in the middle of the group of them lined up along one side of the massive table. There was one lone chair opposite them, ready for their author. It was easy to imagine how intimidating they appeared; they may as well just put a spotlight over the chair opposite them.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gents," Michelle greeted, nodding at the people either side of her, "Thank you for being here this afternoon." Louis saw her glance at her watch, then at the clock on the wall. "I’m sure Mr. Styles won’t be too much longer."

The hand on the clock ticked up to the hour. Then it ticked past. Five past one came and went. Then ten past. The big bosses began to grumble, shuffling their papers more and looking at their watches. Louis fidgeted. He lifted the cup of tea in front of him to his mouth and took a gulp, wincing when he felt the burning liquid scorch his tongue.

At exactly fifteen minutes past one, there was a flurry of activity outside the boardroom doors. Louis watched several people duck out of the way as a figure narrowly avoided crashing into everything and everyone as he made his way towards them. Everyone in the meeting stopped and watched as the man stumbled into the office, bag swinging on his shoulder. His eyes were bright, cheeks flushed and he all but collapsed into the chair opposite them, breathing heavily.

"Sorry, I’m so sorry," he said quickly through heaving breaths. "Traffic- it’s awful today- I had to run."

Louis was aware of Michelle saying something about it being okay, how the lunch rush was always a nightmare to navigate through, and he was aware of the big bosses saying something disapproving, but he couldn’t make out exactly what it was.

He’d always scoffed a little when Liam talked of thunderbolts, of fireworks, dismissing them as childhood stories taken from Disney films and fairy stories. He didn’t believe that happened to anyone; that they were all over exaggerating, blinded to real life. He still believed that; he didn’t feel any fireworks, didn’t see any neons signs screaming ‘It’s him!’. Instead it felt....it felt like he’d been hit by a train. Like someone had picked him up, leaving his oxygen behind, and put him down somewhere completely different.

The man- he was...he was captivating. Wide green eyes looked at around the table, shining with excitement and eagerness. Beneath them were rosy cheeks, stung from the cold and his over-exertion, and beneath that...a perfectly shaped mouth with pink, chapped lips, and oh _hell_ , he had dimples. No older than his mid-twenties, he was dressed a little scruffily, as if he’d woken up late and pulled on the first thing he’d got his hands on. His outfit was all a little mismatched, but it worked in a starving artist kind of way. His hair was shoved under a beanie but a few errant curls had escaped, dark hair poking out over his ears and around the nape of his neck. He was utterly, completely, enthrallingly _beautiful_.

Michelle was still talking, guiding him through the reasons they’d called him into the office and the man, Mr. Styles, nodded at her, still smiling widely. Louis lifted trembling hands from his lap and flicked open the first couple of pages of Mr. Styles’ manuscript in front of him, looking for his name. He’d never bothered to find out, and Michelle had never told him. He found it at the bottom of the page and almost squeaked, throat seizing.

Harry.

His name was Harry.

Louis did choke then, spluttering noisily and quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Michelle ignored him, but Harry, oh god, _Harry_ , looked over at him. He looked away, then his gaze snapped back, and he smiled warmly at Louis. The rest of Louis' colleagues paid him no mind, oblivious to the breakdown he was having at the end of the table. He felt as if he could explode and scream and cry at the same time. He’d _found him_.

He watched Harry greedily, taking in his arms nervously crossed over his body, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he listened to what they were telling him. Harry blushed suddenly; red coursing down his neck and Louis forced himself to listen, demanding to know what Michelle had said to make him react like that.

"Honestly, Mr. Styles," she was saying, "We’ve not had something as unique as your work land on our desks for some time. It’s really very good."

"Thank you," Harry breathed. He looked down to his lap and shifted in his seat under the praise and Louis could barely contain the urge to get up out of his chair, cross over to Harry and shake him, make him believe he was worth all the praise in the world and more.

"Put bluntly, Mr Styles, we want more. We’re willing to commission you to finish the book, and we’ll publish it."

Harry’s mouth dropped open into a round ‘o’. "Y...you will? You want my book?"

"We want it," the male big-shot said. "If you’re willing, we can draw up a contract."

"Well, that would be...it would be completely incredible," Harry gushed, shaking his head. "I...yes! Yes, I’m willing."

"Wonderful," Michelle clapped her hands together. "You should know, you have Mr. Tomlinson to thank. He read the manuscript and brought it to me. He wouldn’t rest until the whole office had read it and I had agreed to call you in for a meeting."

Louis watched in something akin to terror as Harry’s eyes shifted down the table again to where he sat, still staring dumbly at him.

"Really?" Harry asked softly, and Louis nodded quickly. He was aiming for slow and sincere, but he bobbed his head so fast he probably resembled one of those nodding dogs Niall was so fond of.

"Yes," he managed to stammer, "Yes, absolutely. Brilliant, I mean, yes. Really good," he snapped his mouth closed and stared blankly at the way Harry’s face lit up like sunshine.

"Thank you."

"Well then," Michelle said, gathering her papers together and stacking them neatly in a pile. "We’ll have a contract drawn up, and we’ll be in touch no later than a week today."

"Just like that?" Harry asked, and Michelle nodded kindly.

"Just like that."

"Wow. Thank you! I mean, I’m so grateful you think I’m worth it, I mean," he stood and leaned over the table, reaching out a hand to shake Michelle's. "It was so good to meet you all."

"It’s no problem at all. Please stay for a cup of tea, if you like, and when you’re ready I’ll call someone to show you out."

"I can do it," Louis heard himself saying.

All eyes in the room swivelled to him. Michelle quirked an eyebrow, but agreed nonetheless. "Thank you, Mr Tomlinson."

She stood, and everyone else followed suit. Louis wobbled over to the vibrating ball of energy that was Harry.

"Congrats." He grinned, "Honestly, you deserve it."

"Thanks." Harry bounced on his toes. "I can’t believe it!"

Louis gestured to the glass door, leading Harry through it and down the few steps to the coffee machines as they spoke.

"Really," he said sincerely, watching the other boy out of the corner of his eye. "I loved your work. Erm, would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please." Harry’s smile turned shy again.

When Louis handed him his drink he paused, looking down at Louis like he wanted to say something. Louis waited patiently, stirring his own tea. Around them people got on with their work, tapping at their keyboards or talking on phones. The two of them stood together, as if in their own little bubble, separated from the noise around them. Someone Louis vaguely recognized stepped up to the coffee machine next to them.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked when the guy had gone back to his desk, and Louis nodded. "This is going to sound a little strange...but have we met?"

Louis coughed a little, and Harry pushed on. "I know it’s weird, but I saw you and...I really feel like I’ve see you somewhere before. I can’t think where though, sorry."

Louis steeled himself, and knew what he had to do. His whole body sang with the knowledge that this Harry was the one. There was no doubt in mind. Every cell, every part of him right down to his soul cried out in need to be closer to him. This was it. He was going to do it.

He thrust out his right hand. Harry looked at him for a moment before he took Louis’ hand and they shook. His touch was electricity, zinging up Louis’ arm.

"I’m Louis," he stated. "Louis Tomlinson."

The way Harry’s eyes widened was almost comical. They almost popped out of his head as his mouth fell open.

"Your name is Louis?" he asked softly, still holding Louis’ hand.

Louis nodded. He squeezed Harry’s hand and then disentangled their fingers. With the same hand he pulled back the material of his shirt on his left wrist and held it out. Harry gaped for a moment. Louis saw the tremor in his fingers as he put his drink down and fumbled with his own sleeve. He pulled at the material fiercely as his fingers scrabbled to get at the skin of his wrist. When he managed to yank it away he held his arm out next to Louis’ own.

And there, in all its glory in the same faded, battered letters, was Louis’ own name. Louis looked up at Harry, something burning behind his eyes.

"Hello, Louis Tomlinson." Harry’s smile was shaky and wonderfully breathtaking. "I’ve been looking for you."

 

**********

  
Louis lead Harry in to the cafe by the hand, standing on his tiptoes to see into each of the booths situated around the edge of the shop.  
  
"They’re over the back," Louis told him. He dug around for his wallet and handed Harry a note. "Here, get us some food and then join us?"  
  
"Okay," Harry didn’t take the note. "It’s on me." He pulled Louis in by the lapels of his coat and ducked his head to press their cold lips together. Louis burrowed closer to the warmth of Harry’s body, shivering when freezing fingertips settled gently on the side of his neck.

"Don’t be long." Louis told him, backing away with a final kiss to Harry’s cheek. He left him in the queue and headed for the booth in the corner of the cafe.

"Hey, Lou," The other three chorused as he slid into the empty seat on the opposite side of the table.

"How have you been?" Liam asked, neatly cutting a pastry into three parts and passing the biggest piece to Niall.

"Good," Louis answered, grinning, "Really good."

"Where’s this Harry, then?" Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow sceptically. Louis jerked his head in the direction of the counter, and all three of the other boys swivelled in their seat to peer over.

Harry was already looking, and when they all turned to stare at him he blushed, waving a hand nervously.

"And _he’s_ your soulmate?" Niall clarified, turning back to face Louis. "Not the other Harry who you’ve been seeing for two years and swore you were going to spend the rest of your life with? How do you know _he’s_ the right one?" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder as he spoke.

Louis grimaced slightly. "I got it wrong, I guess? I don’t really know how; maybe I was looking too hard in the first place. I should have listened to you guys."

"What happened with the old Harry?" Liam asked.

"I told him I was leaving. He decided we should talk then, finally." Louis rolled his eyes. "So we talked. Neither of us were happy, and we both knew it, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. I left." He shrugged then, a little lift of his shoulders. "I hope he finds his real mate. I know this time though, lads. It’s him," he gestured to the boy currently pondering over the cakes in the glass cabinet by the counter.

To call it perfection didn’t really do it justice. It was more than that; Harry and he had just slotted together like they’d known each other for lifetimes already. They’d gone out for dinner the day after they’d met and now, a month later with their own flat, Louis was completely blissed out. He wondered how he put up with how miserable he had been for so long. This Harry was kind, funny, hardworking, a bright ball of energy that Louis was drawn to at every minute of the day. Even when they went their separate ways to work each day, by the end of the day Louis missed Harry so severely it was a physical pain in his chest, only soothed by Harry’s touch. Sex before had been fun, but with Harry it was something different entirely. He wrote stories into Louis’ skin with his fingertips, whispered lovely words into his mouth and never, ever let go of him. They were so in tune with each other it was almost scary; Harry knew exactly what he wanted and how, knew just when to touch him or kiss him, and in turn Louis found himself able to know what Harry needed with just one look. 

"How do _we_ know he’s the right one for you?" Liam asked. "I can’t watch you go through what you did with the old Harry again."

Louis squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"I know," Niall said around a mouthful of food, "Show us your tattoo."

Louis wasn’t afraid of his tattoo anymore. When they’d first met, Harry had looked at both of their tattoos, noticing the similarities between them. The dot of the ‘i’ in Louis’ name was non-existent on his wrist, and all the lines had gaps and rough patches, just like Louis’. Harry had told him quietly that all his other friends had bonded years ago and that he was the only one left.

"It terrified the shit out of me when it started fading," Harry had murmured under the covers one night while Louis stroked a hand through his dark hair. "I thought something terrible had happened to you."

Louis had pressed himself closer and mouthed apologies into Harry’s skin, suddenly scared himself and wanting to curl into Harry and stay there. He continually beat himself up about it, for spending years with the wrong person while his soulmate had been so worried about him. Harry had talked him out of it, reassuring him that he understood and that it didn’t matter anymore, not now they’d found each other.

Now, Louis displayed his uncovered wrist proudly on the table.

"Woah," Zayn said faintly, leaning closer. He put his own arm next to Louis’, comparing. Their marks were the same now; thick black lines, strong, unbroken and unblemished. He and Harry had woken one morning two weeks after they met to find them changed overnight, and now they looked the same as the rest of the boys. Louis smiled down at the tattoo.

Harry slid into the booth next to him, setting a tray of drinks and cake down on the table.

"Boys," Louis announced, instantly aware of Harry’s pent up nerves radiating off him, "This is Harry. Harry, this is Niall, Zayn, and Liam."

"Good to meet you mate," Liam said, reaching over to shake Harry’s hand. Louis saw his eyes flicker to Harry’s other hand that rested on the table, and knew that he was checking that Harry’s mark looked the same as Louis’. He rolled his eyes and kicked Liam gently under the table. Liam shot him an innocent look and kicked him back.

"And you," Harry replied, offering a hesitant smile. "Lou’s told me so much about you."

"Not all bad I hope," Niall piped up.

"All true, though." Louis felt Harry relax a little next to him, easing himself into the conversation. He pressed himself along Harry’s side, and Harry placed a hand on Louis’ thigh. He went about setting Louis’ drink in front of him and cutting the cake left-handed, and Louis weaved his fingers around the ones on his leg.

"Oh, Harry. Can we ask you something?" Zayn said casually. His tone was casual, but Louis didn’t miss the look he exchanged with Liam. It was their ‘we’re-plotting-something-but-we-won’t-tell-you-what' look, and Louis was immediately cautious.

"Hmm?" Harry said. He took a sip of hot chocolate and ended up with a frothy moustache, which, well, that was adorable.

"Would you ever cheat on Louis?"

Harry spat his hot chocolate spectacularly over the table. His grip on Louis’ thigh increased ten fold. Louis just tutted and reached for napkins, an inexplicable warm feeling spreading through his belly as he mopped up the table.

" _Excuse me?!_ " Harry gaped, wiping his mouth with the napkin Louis handed him. Liam shot Louis a pointed look, a ‘we-told-you-so’ clear on his face.

Niall sat back, looking over them like a judge residing over a trial. "That was the right reaction, congratulations," He said to Harry’s stunned face. "No further questions."

  
**********

  
Louis arched his back as Harry kissed down his chest, stopping to bite gently at a nipple. He wrapped his fingers in Harry’s curls and let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the attention Harry paid him. 

"So, your friends..." Harry murmured, resting his chin on Louis’ stomach to look up at him.

"They love you already, I can tell," Louis told him, opening his eyes again. "They’re just a bit overprotective, 'cos of what happened with..."

Harry looked at him for a moment, and then shifted up to lie next to Louis.

"I don’t know how he did that to you," he said quietly, "I could never...I-"

"I know," Louis reassured him, "You don’t have to say it." He tapped the inside of Harry’s left wrist, over his mark, "I know."

There was suddenly a pressure at the end of the bed, little footfalls getting closer and closer to them. Harry looked down and then sat up, holding a hand out.

"Hello, darling," he greeted, and Matilda chirped at him, climbing over his lap to bump her nose to his and ignoring Louis completely.

"Nice," Louis said flatly, and Harry cooed at her.

"She’s hungry, Lou. Aren’t you, gorgeous?" he said, and Matilda meowed at him pitifully.

"Crocodile tears," Louis sniffed. "She just wants you for herself."

"Don’t be mean, I know you love her." Harry leaned over to kiss him and then stood up. "Let’s go and get you some food, shall we?" Matilda jumped off the bed, tail high in the air as she tried to lead him to the kitchen.

"Fine," Louis said. He let a slow, lazy smile spread over his face. "You go and do that, and while you’re gone..." He watched Harry’s eyes follow his hand down over his stomach, stopping between his legs. He took hold of himself and moved his hand, stroking slowly and letting a soft little gasp out, "...I’ll just wait for you here."

He watched Harry’s eyes grow dark, pupils dilating. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he started towards the bed. Dropping down onto the mattress he knelt beside him and wrapped his hand around Louis’, guiding his strokes, bending at the waist to pull the breath from Louis' lungs.

"Ah," Louis turned his head away and dislodged Harry's hand from his cock,"You said you’d feed the cat."

Harry groaned, shifting down to rest his forehead on Louis’ stomach. "Tease." He rolled back off the mattress, leaning over to touch their foreheads together. "Don’t. Move." he murmured. "I’ll be right back."

He almost ran out of the door to the kitchen. Louis grinned.

 

**********

 

 _In a sky full of stars,_  
_I think I see you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and Kudos are love  
> Come and have tea at my tumblr- converseandglitteryboots.tumblr  
> xx


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